Dark In Her Imagination
by GlamorousIndieRockAndRoll
Summary: He stares down at the teenage girl, who was a sneering bully with a tongue of venom who gleefully terrorised her enemies and friends alike but was still just a teenage girl. The truth about what really happened that night. Alison DiLaurentis x Eric Northman, hints of dark themes. One-shot.


**This is my ultimate crackship. Can you imagine the stuff Alison DiLaurentis and Eric Northman would get up to?Title comes from the song _Dark In My Imagination _by _Of Verona._**

**Enjoy! x**

* * *

Dark In Her Imagination.

Sookie Stackhouse had disappeared.

Been missing, probably dust in the earth for eight months. Eric needed a break from his smug progeny's face, the morose idiot sibling red with fury and wrong suspicion that he had committed a crime. He travelled around the heart of North America, roaming cities flashing his fangs at crowds and getting drunk on hopeless druggies.

He hadn't expected to be marvelled by a girl picking her way through a busy street, sunglasses on despite the black night and deception oozing from her every pore. Oh, he could see the fine lines of the wig resting atop her head, could recognise a fake ID when he saw one, but somehow underage Vivian Darkbloom managed to sit perched on a barstool and sip ruby wine anyway.

In the dark of night in the balmy deep South she played cruel games and blackmailed, those cool crystalline eyes showing a calculating disposition for a girl so young of age. Barely more than a child but with the brain of an adult convict, worming her way into peoples lives and remaining there forevermore, even when just a mere drunken nights memoir. Something must have happened for a girl with the face of an angel to be eaten inside out by evil, but like most things in life people saw what they wanted to see, and Vivian Darkbloom had as much bad press as her other persona.

She intrigued him, and when he introduced himself after his keen interest became noticed her lips had twisted up into a sick smile.

"I'm not a skank," She had informed him, tracing one nimble finger around the lip of her wine glass and staring up at him. Face dark flashing multicoloured from the pulsating lights, heartbeat thudding dully, eyes narrowed at the implication and lips pursed with haughty disgust. "I'm nothing like the people here."

"Then why are you here?" He asked, and one eyebrow inched upwards into a disdainful arch.

"Why is everyone here?" She replied cryptically, that secret smile he came to know so well playing on her lips like a cat with prey.

And Eric's lips had tilted upwards with sardonic amusement at the thought of her trying to play him before she slid off her seat and tightened her red coat around her curves, walking away from him more determined than any women encountered before.

That had only been the start of a temptous relationship, her storming into his office more than once in fury, or tears beading in her eyes hysterically, or a sly laugh cackling around Fangtasia as she referenced people he didn't know and a gold mine of secrets.

Perched on his lap as he fixed her broken fingers, gasping hysterically into his shoulder as blood slid down her thighs.

She was disturbingly mature, flaunting her body in skimpy outfits to emphasise her curves, fluttering her lashes at him coyly and talking candidly of relationships she clearly shouldn't be having. Lolita was her favourite book, of course. "Couldn't you tell?" She had smirked.

She switched violently _backforthbackforthbackforth _between a life ruiner with a tongue of venom to a scared girl too tough to cry, gritting her teeth because she was Alison DiLaurentis and she did not cry, she did not cry, she did not cry. Sometimes she cried.

She was funny, a dark sense of humour and a wicked smile. She could ooze charisma, charm even Pamela if she _truly _tried, and never skimped out on overdoing the compliments.

She was damaged, she was dangerous but she was beautiful, an enigma, a diamond with different faucets gleaming in different lights.

_"Promise me,_" She had clutched his hand in hers with no trace of fear, those big blue eyes staring up at him worriedly. "Promise me if anything ever happens you'll save me." He had chuckled and nodded, not truly taking her seriously before she'd dashed back out of the door, wig askew in panic.

So after all that, when Eric felt a startling pain blossom deep in his chest and burst in the back of his skull that he knew came only from a blood bond he didn't waste a second.

* * *

P_ainpainpain._

Fingers flail wildly in the air, clawing at the air and bringing savagrey into the tranquil garden. The summer storm rumbles above, lightening zigzagging through the sky and flashing as he takes in the scene.

He didn't take her seriously before, when she strolled into his office tossing her brunette wig aside and talked about someone who was out to get her. An inconvenience, he had teased and she had laughed with a shadow of doubt still lingering in her crystalline eyes.

But now, now someone had buried her alive, and it made even Eric stop for a moment in shock.

The hand grasps midair futilely, clawing at blades of grass from the soil she is buried beneath.

He grips the shaking fingers and _pulls._

She comes up slowly, coughing and gagging on dirt crusted dry lips, eyes bright and foggy. She lurches forward, staring around terrified before Eric gently embraces her. Her hair is mussed wildly and stained with blood and soil, her outfit unsalvageable. A feeble whine emits from her throat as she hungers for air.

"Alison."

She shivers violently, teeth chattering as she rasps for breath hysterically, eyes crazed. Dark blood gushes down her forehead alarmingly and her face is pale, clammy with cold sweat.

She leans her face into his chest as she cries. Her pulse is rapid and frighteningly weak as he examines her dirty face delicately, turning it this way and that and watching her pupils intently.

"Alison you're in shock."

She stares at him feverishly, dazed and confused and terrified before she whimpers, voice giving out as one hand weakly lifts up to dab blood. Bewildered she stares at the crimson on her hand before slumping in his arms. Eric examines the wound still bleeding as she coughs thickly, trying to get oxygen through her clogged airwaves. All she can taste is her premature grave.

She sobs like a little girl, keening quietly as she clutches her head _hard, _as if to stop the blood flow and keep her life force intact. But the damage was done, and if Eric didn't take her to the hospital or feed her blood right now she would be dead permanently.

There is no decision that needs to be made in turning the enigma that is Alison DiLaurentis. He just wonders if she'll last long enough to make it to a burial site.

He stares down at the teenage girl, who was a sneering bully with a tongue of venom who gleefully terrorised her enemies and friends alike but was still just a _teenage girl. _And not even the meanest teenage girl with only 15 years of life deserved to be buried alive enduring a slow agonising death.

She lets out a whisper of a sigh, eyes rolling underneath her closed eyelids. Blood trickles from her ear, and she doesn't understand what's happening, can't comprehend the electrifying pain that radiates through every nerve ending in her body, snapping her cells and stabbing them brutally.

She doesn't know how it happened and she doesn't know who did it and she wants it to _stop, please_, and she knows someone is here holding her but she can't recognise the face and her _head, __**her head-**_

The world explodes into stars, and Eric slams his fangs into her lolling neck with razor sharp precision as he swings her into his arms.

She doesn't make a sound as her skin rips, her windpipe crushed. He strikes deeper, the vicious holes tearing bigger before he pulls away with a snarl. Her blood is as compelling as she, and the flavour remains in his mouth as Eric strides off through the woods. Blood streaks down her neck, splashing onto leaves and rolling onto the floor.

The trees creak above, the rustling of leaves not able to disguise the rumbles of thunder in the dark sky. Still Eric strides on, Alison swinging back and forth in his arm like a puppet controlled by its master. Her hair swishes back and forth, the curls becoming unravelled and getting hideously tangled. Blonde hairs stick to twigs and Eric growls in annoyance, another mess he'd have to clean up before people got suspicious.

He walks deep into the heart of the forest where nobody would think to go. It is there in the bracken and undergrowth he lies Alison down on the floor and sets to work making a grave.

The moonlight is eerie, and Eric thinks that Alison would choose a storm where it could rain any minute to get almost killed in.

Moths and night bugs buzz around him like a halo and he flicks them away irritably, the thorns scraping his skin as he tugs them out of the way to dig the soft earth beneath. Easy to get in and out of, and he soon has a small mound beside him. An owl hoots in a tree opposite, and Eric can almost imagine the golden eyes staring at him beseechingly, as if to shame him for taking so long. He tramples thorns down, tossing away the spikier of undergrowth, his silk sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

The scent of rain hangs heavily in the air and he is not the praying kind, but he sends a quick prayer in Alison's sake that the rain does not come and turn the dirt to mud, drain and bury her life forever.

He digs tirelessly, eyes flickering from time to time to the blonde girl laid sprawled on the floor, blood seeping from her golden neck turned marble, veins criss-crossing in a unique pattern. Like rivers in drought, soon to be replenished.

Her body is so pale the faded bruises are like neon lights. Her curly hair masquerades most, her dirty sunshine top and tight denim jeans shrouding most of her thin body splayed in the soil. Still some are ingrained on her lower arm, blooming on her collarbone where the silver necklace had been ripped away and tossed carelessly aside. Sticky crimson blood rolls down her neck revealing yellow and green patches between the washed out tan, and Eric finishes his burial site and appraises it for a moment critcially.

It should do, it would have to do at this time. He brushes his hands on his trousers and goes towards her catiously, unsure if he's acted too late, unsure if she is still alive.

The heartbeat stutters unevenly, as jagged and brutal as Alison herself. Her lips are ever so slightly parted, eyebrows pulled together in horror, pleading for life, for forgiveness. In the two minutes since he'd bitten her she's gotten closer to the end, wavering on the fine line between life and death. Tipping over it even, as he props her limp neck up in his arms and bites again. Taking all her blood this time with no regrets.

Wracked with a violent shiver as her failing body tries one last ditch to save her he holds her closer, grip like iron. Her blood stained hair is plastered to her clammy skin, and he strikes deeper, her throat constricting desperately beneath his hands holding her in place. Her mouth flounders brokenly for oxygen, her limbs despondant.

Instead of the oxygen she rightly deserves she is met with a hot liquid that chokes down her throat.

Eric presses her over the wound on his wrist, stroking her hair as she splutters his blood down.

Metallic and coating her teeth, sticking to her lips and dribbling down her chin. Addictive though, and she swallows compulsively, instinctively, feeling the hot burn all down her broken body.

Eric stares down at her limp body, splayed in the earth. He starts to pile soil on top of her before jumping in. He cradles her limp body, the dirt surrounding them like a cage.

He licked her blood from his reddened lips and rolled the corpse to one side, nestling his face in hair the colour of gold and pretending it was someone else he was now turning.

No longer able to breathe, too tired to even try, Alison feels herself

f

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The falling lasts a while, and is a confusing mix of images and thoughts, emotions and memories, and always in the background the slither of something making a home in her body, oozing into her pores and changing them to how they saw fit.

She lands hard, jolting back down into awareness with horrifying clarity. After a terrifying second she remembers that the thing she is using is a brain, and she is filled with thoughts, memories of a life. A girl that must be her, with golden skin and blonde curls, dangerous icy eyes. She is... alive. She must be but... darkness presses on her every side and she floats in flashes of pictures for a while. Pictures that must be memories of her, whoever she is. This strange creature with a Mother and Father and a brother Jason of course. She shies away from them even as they hit her at full speed _forcing _her to recall. The sweaty hands tugging at her bra strap, the crack and pain as her Father hit her, her Mother slamming the piano lid down on her fingers breaking them instantly. And Emily's kisses, Spencer's sharp intellect and Aria's dreaminess, Hanna's kindheartedness. She squirms at her savagery, eyes gleaming in delight at others misfortune. She doesn't mean to be that way, she was a product of other darker things that she'd never reveal. _Two can only keep a secret if one of them is dead. _I have to be strong and I have to show no weakness because I'm Alison DiLaurentis and I'm fabulous.

As her muscles grow stronger and her cramping pains intensify she remembers what has led to this confusing pit vividly. Her name is Alison DiLaurentis, and... somebody hit her. Then... she died? But if she did...

Something is pressing on her, covering her mouth that aches painfully. As she scrabbles feebly at her cage she opens her eyes and is assaulted by a world of luminous happenings. A worm slowly uncurling and the scent of decomposing plants. Roots make veins in the dark soil and she must be underground. Underground where bugs and insects reside. Her breathing quickens but he get no satisfaction from it, only inhaling more dirt and soil that clings to her windpipe thickly. Alison's heartbeat no longer echoes in her ears and panic assaults her. A low growl rumbles in her throat as she scrapes at the soil, wanting to get out of this _hell -_

_Someone had buried her alive and killed her, she was sure... But if she was killed she must be dead... unless-_

Fingers claw at the thorns, the ground giving way only to jewellery at first, the _Alison _bracelet mud smeared and ratty around a skinny immortal wrist. Soon after the dark soil crumbles as she slowly starts to appear, outfit destroyed and nails broken. Hair dishevelled, eyes wide. A monster from a fairy-tale.

Her hands uproot blades of grass, scrabbling dirty nails digging into the ground. Soil sprinkles on the floor as she looks around wildly. The floor is not the floor she can remember from those memories. It is too vivid, pulsating almost with its brightness, and it can't be night but she can see the moon-

She Iooks away from the bright light with a feral hiss and scrabbles out of the ground transfixed by the stars in the sky above.

Somewhere in the back of her brain she knows what has happened, and how he must be here, but still the voice surprises her.

"Alison." Eric says softly, a shadow amongst the shadows and she twitches, lips twisting upwards in a snarl. "Do you remember what happened?"

She turns to stare at the vampire, confused and angry and _hungry. _He is covered in dirt like she, but still beautiful, His lips tilting upwards into a smile, leant against a tree trunk observing her and she thinks that for him she'll try to remember what happened. She recalls the sound of wind whistling by her ear before pain bubbled up in her head.

She cradles her head with one hand, unblinkingly staring at him. "Somebody hit me."

Her face turns into a sneer, hands clenching into fists. "I'll _kill _them, I'll _rip their throats out-_"

Bloodlust overcomes her, surging in her veins heatedly and before she knows what happened she's being restrained in his arms.

"Focus. You don't want squirrel as your first meal. Come."

She giggles with delight, an angelic trill that clashes horribly with her horrific mouth waters and she shifts uncomfortably, fangs aching and piercing her bottom lip.

She laughs hysterically. "You turned me!" Her laughs turn into gulping sobs, the terror and the relief and the hunger coming out in a rush. "You kept your promise, you- _thank you-_"

He lets her hug him, clutching to him before staring up with luminous eyes and declaring she was hungry, and she wanted food now and she didn't want tru blood she wanted _people _of coures-

Eric leads her away from her grave, brushing off dirt as they ghosted through the trees. She'd have to go back to Fangtasia with him now, something Pamela was sure to relish. He knew she disliked Sookie but she hated Alison even more. But Sookie was gone now, never to back, and Alison was a puzzle just waiting to be completed. It may take years but he has the time, and he'll make sure he never regrets his decision.

Alison stares around in wonder, her hand slipping from his to marvel wide-eyed at their surroundings.

"You shall need to learn restraint." He warns her and she turns to look at him, silver in the moonlight, and her lips curve into that sinister smile he recognises. A smile he knows that's only gotten worse. Bloodlust taints the edges, revenge makes her wet her lips in anticipation.

"I don't think so."

No, she will not learn restraint until she gets revenge on the person who tried to kill her. It wil take time to remember all the details, work out how to be unseen and stay dead.

But she'll do it, Alison DiLaurentis isn't a quitter, and when she turns back up in her red coat they'll understand that two can play at that game.


End file.
